


Vile Viscera

by DragonHumanoid



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Blood and Gore, Trauma, for my characters, i think its good in the beginning and then i got tired so its not as good, its a d&d thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 20:06:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18350789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonHumanoid/pseuds/DragonHumanoid
Summary: Im gonna try to make this thing private but idk if i know how so sue mealso the less tags the less searchable it is





	Vile Viscera

Under an ancient colosseum, figures cloaked in fine black robes trimmed golden archaic runes bustle about a large medical room, seemingly crudely carved from the stone foundations. Stone counters line the back of the room, scattered with all manner of ingredients and tools currently being used. The soft grinding of mortar and pestle alongside the clinks of materials in metal and glass bowls were the only sounds in the large room. Stone examination tables with leather and metal strappings dot the middle of the spacious room, all remaining empty apart from one, centered in the large room. Mage lights brightly illuminate the broken figure, shining off long teal hair, barely secured by the braid it was in. Their olive skin was marred by violent scars, both new and old, interrupted with new gashes of dark, oozing red. Blood rusted iron straps press slightly into their flesh, restraining them as they begin to stir and shift.

The barred iron door creaks swiftly open, the louder sound giving the robed figures pause in their business. A tall elven man with golden skin and dark copper hair gracefully glides in, wrapped in dark purple silken robes, trimmed with silver. Inky black eyes fall on the slowly awakening champion, a malicious smirk coming to rest on his deceptively handsome face as he catches her single brown eye and she becomes slowly aware of her surroundings. His gate slows as he circles the prone form of his captive.

“oh Baerra,” he almost purrs out, his voice molten chocolate dripping off the poisonous blade of his tongue, sounding not unlike a scolding parent, “When will you ever learn.” Cold fingers mockingly brush a stray strand of hair away from her face, only to be snatched back, the barbarian’s teeth snapping shut with an audible clack on the air where they once resided, punctuated with a feral growl to her captor.

A breath of laughter emanates from the high elf, watching her futilely struggle against her bonds, the unyielding iron nipping tighter into her skin. Her anger grows as she listens to his amusement, and with an angered growl, attempts to kick out at him. A white-hot wave of pain washes over her, blinding her vision as she struggled not to cry out, mouth open in a silent scream and frozen straining against the straps. Her eye rolls in her head, threatening to send her back to the blissful nothing of unconsciousness.

The Golden Elf gestures to a hooded figure, standing vigilant over the examination table. With a wave of his hand over her head and a flash of light, awareness seeps back into the small Barbarian. A cry of pain escaped from her gritted teeth, bringing a pearly grin to the elf’s complexion.

“Don’t go drifting off on us yet, little half breed,” The silken dagger voice came, “You still need punishment for all the troubled you caused” Even as he spoke, a hint of anger trailed into his voice, even as the emotion on his face remained placid and eerily calm.

Chest heaving with the weight of the pain she could now feel, the half breed captive strained against her bonds once more, craning her head for the source of her suffering in her lower extremities. She beheld the state of her legs, a tanned olive hill scape, oozing rivers and lakes of the darkest crimson, monoliths of bone rising from cracks and canyons, reaching heavenwards like slaves to freedom.

Shock and horror filled her mind and heart, but was swiftly eclipsed by her anger towards her captor. Her bloodshot eye snapped to lock with his, following his leisurely path around her and growling with hatred and fear. The high elf circled the platform, void-like gaze threatening to consume the Barbarian whole, even as his face remained free of emotion. His path ended at her side, delicate hand poised gracefully in the coagulated pool under her shattered legs as the silence of their contest was finally broken.

“Quite a feat you achieved,” his focus shifted to the largest of the ivory spires, eyes following the path of its exodus from the muscle of her lower thigh, to the crest of its spire, even as its owner’s eye burned into his temple, “Must have taken so long to build the strength and strategy to shatter the manticore’s chain in one strike. Weeks, perhaps Months.” His head tilted slightly as he lifted his hand, the movement drawing the gaze of the feral barbarian, following the ghosting fingers slowly back down the jagged shard. 

“It was quite startling to see the manticore free,” his gaze turned again to his captive’s face, witnessing the dawning horror on her face as his hand slowly encircled her protruding bone. A wicked smile flashed on his lips as he snapped his hand around the protruding shard of femur, sending Baerra’s head to snap back down against the platform as she choked in pain, struggling to breathe from the straining of her ligaments. Her tormentor licked his teeth, malice growing in his chest as he started to lift the bone, just to hear her choke on her pain, cooing mockingly.

“If only his death wasn’t in vain.” He began to slowly pull on the bone, feeling the muscle and ligaments strain and tear, audible snaps and squelches beginning to be drowned out by the growing cry of pain, a gasping, tortured, choked cry that could barely claw its way out of her chest. Her body pressed harder against her bindings, the blood rusted iron biting harshly into her skin now, hands clawing for a hold on the stone before them.

“You shouldn’t have gone so high in the stands.” his voice began to show his anger, though his face revealed the pleasure he gained at her pain, eyes half lidded as he began to twist the bone, the rending of flesh growing even louder, paralleling the growing cry that had finally clawed its way out of her mouth, voice shaking and trembling as the hooded mage above her kept her aware. The bindings holding the iron bands to the platform began to subtly creak as her body struggled to escape the pain, cutting lines in her arms and torso as the edges bit into her skin.

“You could have been free right now. If you had just jumped sooner,” Fresh blood began to spill over the sides of the platform as the Sadistic elf felt the cartilage left at the remains of her knee begin to strain and buckle against his force. 

“Or maybe, you should have climbed higher, if you truly wanted to escape me.” Her screams reached octaves higher than he had ever heard it as he bore his gritted teeth, allowing himself to fully feel the anger boiling inside his gut. 

With a roar as loud as her screams, and a final pop, the shard ripped free.

The silence that covered the room as he held the bone aloft was palpable, as Baerra’s mind was forced to attempt registering the levels of pain. Her body and mouth were frozen in a soundless scream, eyes wide and unseeing, as the gouge left from her bone began to fill with blood, arteries spraying her torturer’s robes with blood as he, almost blissfully, closed his eyes.

Body fighting for life, the captive chokes desperately on the room’s stale air, only for a pained shriek to expel itself once again from her body as it convulsed, her screams drowning out the clatter of wet bone into metal. Coming to awareness, the tortured champion attempted to stifle her cries of pain from the cruel man, jaw snapping shut as her captor comes out of his stupor. Inky eyes settle back onto her pain weary face as he lowers his face towards hers, whispering into her ear like a dark secret.

“But it would be pointless. Your body and soul belong to me, and soon, not even death will free you.” His lean arms flexing slightly, he gracefully pulls back to see the expected look of defeat on her face. A thick wad of blood and spit finds its target on his cheekbone, sliding down ever-so-slightly as he gritted his teeth. His face contorted into a look of disgust as his eyes closed and a shudder passed through his body. The barbarian below him seethed as he slowly stood to his full height, finally finding her voice.

“Fuck you”

A fearful cloaked figure wiped the offending spittle from his master’s cheek before retreating into the shadows. The high elf composed his face, taking slow, deep breaths flowing in through his nose and out through his mouth. His hand raised once again, and a resounding crack of skin on skin echoed though the chamber, the champion’s head snapping to the side from the force of the backhand her captor dealt. Seemingly contented, the Sadistic torturer turn on his heel and began strolling out of the room, pausing just before the open iron door to address the rest of the figures in the room, his voice once again that silken dagger tone.

“Take her legs,” his head turned just enough to see the champion’s eyes widen in paralyzing fear in his peripheral, “And make sure she can feel everything.”

As he leisurely glides from the stone hewn room, the sound of baleful pleas echoes down the long hallway, cut short by blood-curdling screams of pain, heard throughout the dungeons of the colosseum, alongside his own sadistic laughter.


End file.
